The Close Call
by Wyndhamfan
Summary: A near-impossible case to win. A vicious opponent. And a really, really bad cold. Just another day at Pearson Hardman. Or is it? Mike soon discovers that this is one case that could just cost him his life.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **There seems to be a serious shortage of Suits Gen fic, so here I am to fill the gap! It's a fic that's mostly canon – except this takes place sometime in the future after the season 1 finale. Therefore, no slash (sorry!) and is mostly a story that highlights the relationships in the wonderful show we all love.

Do leave me a review! As you know, it's food for us writers :)

**Disclaimer: **Totally do not own Suits or the wonderful characters. This story is purely not for profit but written so that we can tide the long months before season 2 begins.

**Chapter 1**

Four days before he nearly died, Mike Ross was talking a man down from a ledge.

The man in question was Dr Nathan Rollins, their latest client, a doctor from Mercy Medical who was caught on the wrong side of a wrongful dismissal suit and with evidence stacked so high against him that Mike couldn't blame the man for acting somewhat, well, desperate.

Though for a desperate man, Dr Rollins looked liked he didn't have a care in the world. He sat – in his tattered jeans and rumpled white shirt – on the ledge, lazily kicking his legs in the air. The rough, early winter winds tossed his unruly blonde hair wildly and sometimes obscured his face. His sneakers were arranged neatly on the ledge beside him. He had a tiny smile on his pale, drawn face.

He looked like a man who had finally come to a decision, and was finally, at last, at peace with the world. That, however, was not a good state of mind to be in when you're perched on the edge of a skyscraper, hundreds of feet above the ground.

Rollins took a long draw from his joint and threw him a lazy grin.

"Want one?" he offered him the half-smoked roll of weed.

He gave Rollins a tight smile. "No thanks. I quit a while back."

"That blows," Rollins murmured in perfect slacker speak.

It took every ounce of Mike's willpower to _please, for the love of all that's mighty, not to look down. _He gingerly sat next to the man, hoping that he didn't spook him. However, unlike Rollins, who hung his legs over the ledge, Mike's were safely tucked on the ground. But being just a mere inch or two away from certain death didn't sit very well with him.

"So. We were looking for you."

Rollins lifted a blonde eyebrow but otherwise did not offer his opinion on the matter. Then, he muttered flatly: "Shucks, you shouldn't have."

Mike cleared his throat. "Well. You walked out in the middle of the negotiation – "

"Because they insulted my wife and daughter. My _dead _wife and daughter," Rollins' tone was hard.

"They" were Pharma Medical, the corporate giant that owned Mercy. Specifically, their lawyer Leah Johnson, who brought up how Rollins spiralled into drugs, drink and depression even _before_ the tragic deaths of his wife and daughter at the hands of a murderous gang of robbers the NYPD had dubbed "The President's Men". The robbers, who had a penchant for wearing masks of former presidents, had the corpses of his family on the sofa for Rollins to find after he returned home from a 36-hour shift at the hospital.

As if he read his mind, Rollins said: "I suppose I have to thank the bastards. They sat Linda and Joyce on the couch – Linda had her hand on Joyce's head, like she was stroking her hair. They were watching Spongebob. Joyce loved Spongebob. I can pretend that their last moments were … pleasant." His voice was dull, dead. He took another long drag and watched the New York skyline with vacant eyes.

After Leah implied that he had been a screw up even before Linda and Joyce's deaths – mentioning hospital gossip about him having an affair with a patient – Rollins had gotten up slowly, walked over to Leah and without taking his burning eyes from her defiant ones, swiped her files to the floor in a messy heap. Without a word to any of them – they had all been frozen with shock, even Harvey and Jessica – he walked out. Harvey just threw him a look. It was Harvey's code for: "Get his ass back here. _Now_."

So, here he was, barely insulated against the icy winds, probably catching pneumonia in the process, as he tried to talk Dr Rollins from hurling himself off the 60th floor of their office building.

Mike had had tough cases. But this one was a different level of tough. Seeing despair so deep and raw affected him in a way that he had not expected. He and Harvey had worked themselves to the bone with this one, spending numerous sleepless nights hunched over endless sheets of data, desperate to give this man some kind of hope. They had an instinctive feeling that without that glimmer of hope, Rollins would give up. Not just on his career, which was the only thing he lived for, but on life itself.

But Rollins, by all appearances, seemed to have already given up when he came to them. He was mostly silent and withdrawn, letting his twin sister Amanda do all the talking. She was the one who pleaded with Harvey to take on his case, offering her meagre savings as payment. Harvey, in a rare moment of generosity, decided to take the case pro bono.

Mike suspected that Rollins would willingly allow Pharma Medical to bankrupt him if he could. The man just needed an excuse to bail in any way.

Except from his patients, that is. That seemed to be the only thing that would get a reaction from the man. And the trouble, after all, began when he made a tough call at the ER. Already "grounded" because of his topsy turvy personal life, Rollins – who was once Manhattan's best infectious disease specialist – intervened and saved a patient's life when the ER doctors couldn't. For two days the patient was alive, happy and euphoric that he survived. Then, he was dead from a heart attack. The family sued, and after a long drawn out suit, Rollins was proven innocent. Then, Pharma Medical fired him. Mike couldn't blame the man for wanting to throw in the towel. Not after all that he'd been through.

"Rollins. We're close to winning this," he said.

"I don't care if we win," Rollins said curtly. He flicked the joint into the empty air and watched it flutter to the distant ground with mild curiosity.

Mike swallowed, trying not to follow the descent of the doomed joint. "Amanda's worried about you. We all are."

Rollins snorted. Then, he laughed dryly and squinted at him, blinking away the glare from the winter sun.

"You care? The blood-sucking lawyer cares?" he said in disbelief.

"First, I object to the blood-sucking label. I take my steak well done. Then there's also the fact that your sister will not spare me if anything happens to you on my watch," he said.

_Or Harvey, for that matter, _he thought.

Amanda was away in Miami for a funeral. Mike knew that he was grasping at straws when it came to "convincing reasons to give a man who was about to turn himself into pavement splatter." But any delay tactic was better than no delay tactic.

This seem to amuse Rollins further. He guffawed, slapping his thighs. Mike tensed nervously, worried that the motion would tip the man in the wrong direction.

_Okay, this is enough_, he thought crossly. _I'm freezing my butt off on top of a skyscraper, talking to a guy who's about to jump. Just about the wackiest thing I've done for this crazy job. _

"Look. I'm never going to understand what you went through. I don't think I ever could so I won't give you the usual platitudes," he said.

Rollins' blue eyes turned ice cold, all mirth gone.

Mike swallowed nervously. "But I sense something in you. Call it a hunch, call it the instinct of a man who has tasted desperation one too many times but I know you want to screw the Big Guys just as badly as we do. If you do _this – " _he pointed at the blank, empty space before them, " – if you're giving up now, you're letting them win. And Leah Johnson? She's not gonna lose a nanosecond of sleep over it."

Rollins' eyes narrowed at the mention of her name and Mike tensed, wondered if he'd screwed up. After one too many long seconds, the man laughed bitterly.

"If we screw them, are we gonna screw them good?"

"Oh yeah. That's Harvey's speciality."

Rollins grunted, then stretched out a hand to him. Mike took a step back and looked at the hand in confusion.

"What? You think it's easy to get up from here?" Rollins arched an eyebrow.

Quickly, Mike grabbed his hand and helped Rollins to his feet. But in his haste, he scratched himself on some piping by the ledge. He ignored the brief sting – so great was his relief that Rollins was finally on solid ground again – and finally allowed himself to breathe as Rollins swung his feet over the ledge and reached out to rescue his sneakers from an uncertain fate.

Once he was a safe distance from the edge, Rollins lit another joint. Mike sighed. Smoking pot in front of Leah was just not going to win Rollins any plus points. Worse, Jessica's going to flip and who's going to get to clean up? Yup, Mike Ross.

He was going to have to talk Rollins out of it on the way down to Pearson Hardman. He groaned inwardly at the thought of it.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Mike smiled. "You're welcome."

Rollins expelled a big puff of smoke from his lungs and threw the joint on the ground and proceeded to crush it with his bare foot. Mike winced. Rollins' toes were blue from the cold.

"And Mike?"

"Yeah?" he watched the flames go out.

"Breathe a word of this to Amanda and I'll sneak into your home and spike your food with something you're not gonna like."

He suppressed a grin and cleared his throat as he tried to look grave and serious. "Okay."

As Rollins walked lazily towards the stairs, wearing his sneakers along the way, Mike finally felt the pain. When he gave the wound a brief look, he was surprised at the amount of blood dripping from it, but quickly flicked the blood away and proceeded to banish it from his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Mike closed his eyes, and leaned heavily against the wall as he tried to stop the world from spinning.

It was almost over, the told himself. All he had to do was get the documents ready and then he's going to take the longest nap he'll ever take in his life.

That is, if Harvey would let him leave before 8pm today. The idea would've been laughable on most days, but today Mike was at the end of his rope, and he wanted it to be true, just this once. So, he decided to test the waters by asking the person who knew Harvey like she was his own mother.

"Nope," Donna said without looking up from her computer screen.

He blinked owlishly, then placed the heavy stack of documents on top of her cubicle divider. She stared at the offending pile like it was a pile of crushed cockroaches. Normally, Mike wouldn't dare risk the wrath of Harvey's right hand woman, but his arms were killing him today. Along with his head, which was aching abominably.

"I've not even said anything," he protested.

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face."

"And what am I saying, oh great psychic?"

"You want to know if Harvey will let you leave early today," she said, her fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard as she worked.

He couldn't help but be impressed.

"There's no way you could've known that."

She winked. "I have my ways. Besides, anyone could see from your hangdog expression that you're just about done. And are you coming down with something?"

He shrugged. "If I say yes, would Harvey show me mercy?"

"No, but I'd suggest you stand five feet away from me because I'm not going to get what you have," she said, making a shooing motion with her well-manicured hand.

When he didn't move, Donna cleared her throat, and stared pointedly at him. He sighed and took a few steps back.

"So. No chance, huh?"

She shook her head. "He's in a mood," she said, making a face.

"He's been 'in a mood' the whole week. Shouldn't he be over that now, seeing that, I don't know, we won the case?" he asked in disbelief.

Bad enough that Rollins nearly tried to kill himself last week – Harvey had been driving him up the wall for weeks before, giving him impossible task after impossible task as he battled Leah Johnson, the she-demon of a lawyer for Pharma Medical. It would be a total understatement that the normally unflappable Harvey Specter was extremely bothered by the leggy blonde. Harvey remained testy even after they won the case, saying that Leah was up to something.

"They should just get a room already," Rachel had muttered to him the other day as they both struggled through stacks and stacks of documents in the library.

"Enemy sex? You know, for Harvey, that could be a good idea ..." he said, throwing her a tired smile.

On top of the on and off fever that he have been suffering the last three days and Louis Litt's non-stop ill-timed demands, Mike was more than tempted to just walk out of Pearson Hardman – dream career, great pay and second chances be damned. He couldn't remember being this tired or drained.

He's no good to Harvey half dead like this.

Fuelled with sudden determination, Mike marched towards his cubicle, determined to get his bag and head out of the office whether Harvey liked it or not. That is until Harvey came storming towards him.

"In my office. _Now._"

Shit. Harvey was using the "you screwed up bad and I'm going to chew you up and spit you out" voice. Sighing, he trailed after Harvey and caught Donna looking at him semi-sympathetically.

"What the hell did you just do?" Harvey roared once the door closed behind them. Yes, roared. Mike winced – did the glass doors around Harvey's office rattle ... ?

"If you start explaining, maybe I can give you an answer," he found himself saying. Right after the words tumbled out of his mouth, he couldn't believe he had said it. What was he trying to do? Commit _harakiri_?

Harvey came so close to him that they were almost nose to nose. The glare from his slate grey eyes threatened to bore holes into his eyes. He found himself momentarily disoriented and turned away, feeling dizzy.

Harvey mistook that gesture as defeat, and growled, "You forgot to file the documents."

He searched his fuzzy brain for the "documents" Harvey was talking about. He found himself rubbing his cheek distractedly as his usually sharp memory utterly failed him.

"Hey!" Harvey snapped.

Blinking, Mike returned his bleary gaze to Harvey, who stared into his eyes once more.

"I don't believe it," Harvey growled.

"What?" he mumbled, confused.

"You're high."

"_What?_" he exclaimed, Harvey's out-of-the-blue comment momentarily waking him up.

"You're spaced out," Harvey snapped, then cursed under his breath as he tossed a pile of papers to the floor. It fluttered messily around them.

And Mike finally remembered.

"No, wait. I did file those. I swear," he said as he picked one sheet up.

"Oh, really. That would explain why I found them sitting on your desk. And that probably explains why Leah Johnson managed to find a chink in our defense to drag our client into _another _civil suit," Harvey said, his voice taut with fury.

Confused, he picked up the papers. He recognised his writing … and realised that Harvey was right. That somehow he had forgotten to file the documents like he should have. But he couldn't have forgotten, could he? Because he did not forget anything. Ever.

"Sober up," he said. "And Mike? I don't give people second chances. After this case you can pack up your things," he snapped.

Mike was so shocked at what Harvey said that he could only stare, confused, at the man. When he finally had the brain power to react, he shook his head in protest.

"Harvey – "

But Harvey didn't want his explanations at all.

"Get out," he said coldly. With that, the man turned his back on him, going through a bunch of files on his desk.

"What? You're not going to even hear me out?"

"There's nothing to hear," Harvey said without looking at him.

"What about, 'I am not high'?"

This time, Harvey turned towards him, his eyes still cold.

"I'm only going to say this one more time. _Get out_."

And just like that, his legal career was over. Normally, he would have protested vehemently at this treatment. Or hoped that Harvey was just kidding. Or hell, even threaten to tell Jessica on him. But he was tired. Bone deep tired. And all he wanted to do was just goddamn sleep already. Right now, that was far more important than Harvey Specter's approval or his shiny fake legal career.

Numbly, he trudged out of Harvey's office, ignoring Donna's shocked look, and the curious stares of his soon-to-be ex-colleagues.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **I would like to thank everyone for the kind reviews! Please do tell me what you think with this chapter - we writers live for these things :)

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1.**  
><strong>

**Chapter Three**

To all but a sacred few, Harvey Specter's $5 million bachelor pad was off limits. At 1am, on a day where his mostly-flawless track record was blemished by the carelessness of his associate, Mike Ross wasn't one of them.

He thought of ignoring the insistent knocking at first, but he forgot that this was Mike Ross, the man whose tenacity and resourcefulness impressed him so much that he hired him despite the danger it posed to his career and livelihood.

He swung the door open so suddenly that Mike nearly fell through the doorway.

The man stared at him, wide-eyed. Harvey immediately saw that his eyes were glazed, and his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His eyes narrowed. Just what he needed.

"I forgot to remind Johnston to bar drunk associates from my door," he drawled.

Mike leaned heavily against the door jamb and roughly ran a hand through his matted hair.

"Damn it, Harvey! For the millionth time, I'm not high!"

He studied Mike – flushed face, dilated eyes, slurred speech. Some say that an addict didn't know that he was one until it's too late.

"Is that what you came to say to me at this hour?"

He proceeded to slam the door in Mike's face, but Mike slammed his hand hard against the door, stopping it. He glared at Harvey, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of fury and determination.

"Fine. I'm high. _Whatever_. But Rollins – I'm not just going to leave him high and dry just because you fired me," he snapped.

Harvey snorted in disbelief.

"You think you're that indispensable? There are a dozen of associates who would kill their mothers to take your place."

"Sure. But none of those Harvard schmucks can do what I do – help you win the case. And you know I'm not lying. Rollins needs a second shot at life, and none of those pampered Ivy Leaguers know how to think their way out of a paper bag. And I need Rollins to win this just as much as you do."

That's what impressed Harvey about Mike. The man was a scrapper. He fought hard and sometimes if he had to, fought in such a way that bent the rules in ways that would make other associates pee in their pants.

"You're still fired," he said.

He saw a flash of disappointment in Mike's eyes and had to restrain himself from taking that back. He had been too soft with Mike lately, and that had given them far too many close calls, he told himself firmly.

"Fine," Mike said, his voice flat. "I'll see you at eight. I _will _find a way, Harvey."

"See that you do," he said dismissively. He slammed the door shut before Mike could reply, and felt oddly guilty about it.

Perhaps the stress of his double life and getting things done when no one else could was finally getting to Mike, but if he thought that Harvey would allow him to let loose with some weed, he was sadly mistaken. He had to nip the problem in the bud. Now. Not when Mike is a full-blown addict snorting heroine in the men's room, because Harvey didn't need a dead weight like that weighing him down.

People like Mike – like Harvey – came from places that wouldn't have allowed them to be who they were today. They had to work harder that most, and if the universe was smiling on them, they had people like Jessica to help them ascend to these lofty heights. Harvey never wasted the golden chance Jessica gave him. He wasn't going to allow Mike to do it either.

He sighed.

_I hope you snap out of this soon, kid. Because in this world, just one tiny slip is the end of everything._

- S - S - S -

On the day Mike Ross woke up for what he believed was his last day at Pearson Hardman, he felt as if the whole world had turned upside down.

It actually had, in a way. He was lying in bed with his head hanging off the edge and was staring at a chest of drawers that looked as if it was suspended in mid air. It took more of an effort than usual to haul himself out of bed, and when he did, the world spun crazily around him. He weaved drunkenly towards the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, momentarily stunned to see the face that stared back at him. He was pale and his pupils were fixed and dilated – he looked like he just had a night throwing down two dozen shots of whisky.

"Great. Now Harvey's going to really think that I'm high.".

Fired because he was sick. Huh. He tried to reassure himself that he would've quit anyway since he had already reached his limit when it came to the shit that he could take from Pearson Hardman. Perhaps the shock of the sudden loss of it all had not settled in yet, because all he felt was numbness and annoyance at the thought of having to go in to work today.

Although he did nurse a tiny hope that Harvey was just, well, overreacting, he was actually relieved.

In a perverse way he was glad. For the longest time he felt as if he'd been living with a knife perched above his heart. He was always one step away from being fired – either for not being able to meet Harvey or Louis's crazy demands, or worse, from people finding out that he was not a Harvard law graduate but really a college dropout. He could finally stop holding his breath waiting for the knife to plunge. Where did he think his charade would end up anyway? He was going to end up like Stan Jacobson, former senior vice president of Drybeck Accounting. "Start all over again?" Jacobson had said to him sadly. "I shouldn't have done it."

This was for the best.

He got himself ready as best as he could but theorised that since this was his last day anyway, he didn't have to try that hard.

Outside, he managed to hail a taxi despite feeling so detached that his head seemed to be floating somewhere outside the solar system. Inside, he slumped heavily into the seat and rested his head against the window. Today, his bike was getting a rest. He envied the bike.

"Hey, buddy!"

Mike jerked awake and blinked blearily. Confused, he looked out the window and saw the shiny offices of Pearson Hardman outside. How did they get here so fast? Did he zone out?

"We're here," he croaked in surprise.

The man frowned. "You drunk, kid?"

He sighed. What the hell is up with people these days? Couldn't they see that he was a step away from death's door?

"Wish I was," he muttered as he handed the cab driver the fare with a shaky hand.

"Thanks," the man said. "Look, buddy. I've been where you are. Take it easy on the breakfast martinis next time, kid. Won't do you no good being like this."

He grunted in annoyance and stumbled out of the cab. And instantly regretted it. Black spots danced in his vision and the world tilted crazily.

_I'm going to pass out_, he realised in alarm.

Somehow, he managed to regain his equilibrium. He took deep breaths and held on to a lamp post as he tried to regain his bearings and get some strength back in his legs. He hadn't realised that he was this sick, and it alarmed him quite a bit – especially since the sickest he'd ever been was to nurse a three-day stomach flu.

He was tempted to hail another taxi to take him home right then, but then he remembered Rollins, sitting on the ledge inches away from certain death and steeled himself. He had screwed up the man's case by giving Leah a way to cause more suffering to Rollins via a technicality. Because of him, a good man could possibly lose his life – all because of a bunch of papers he forgot to file. He couldn't leave Pearson Hardman as the man who not only lied on his resume but left his last client to rot.

Fix the mess, Harvey had told him.

"I will," he mumbled, stumbling towards the shiny offices of Pearson Hardman.

- S - S - S -

"You're not really going to fire him, are you?" Donna said as they both walked towards the lobby where Rollins and Jessica were waiting.

Harvey didn't answer. He merely stared ahead, his face set in a hard line.

"He was high, Donna," he finally said.

She shrugged, and didn't dispute that. Privately, she thought Mike was sick at first. But seeing how oddly he had behaved the past few days ... she was reminded of that time when he returned from the tennis courts with Louis. Mike had been exactly like that.

"He's been spaced out this whole week and he forgot to file the documents, leaving Leah with a way in to screw us over," Harvey said. "And I'm supposed to forgive that?"

"The kid's exhausted."

"_I _am exhausted. But you don't see me smoking pot to lose some steam," he said.

"You screw some girls instead. I'm sure we have gone down that road once or twice," she said.

Harvey glared at her.

"Why are you defending him?"

"I like an interesting challenge," she replied, smiling coyly. They rounded the corner, and she stiffened.

"Damn," she said, sounding disappointed.

Jessica was sitting beside Rollins, talking to him in hushed tones as he cradled his head in his hands. She must've given him news to him. Rollins, who just the day before was told that he was finally free of the suit, was just informed that he may stand to lose his entire meagre fortune with this new civil suit. When she finally noticed their presence, Jessica had a barely restrained look of annoyance on her face, and they all knew why. Mike Ross was late again – today, of all days. They had offered Rollins hope by calling him in, saying that they have found a solution. And after all Mike said yesterday about coming up with a solution ...

"You still think I'm too harsh on him?" he wondered bitterly.

Donna merely put on a fake smile as she went forward with Harvey to do damage control.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He was going to be late. He wasn't really sure how that was going to happen, but he had a strong feeling that the fates would conspire to ensure that he'd bomb the crucial meeting with Rollins.

And fate came in the form of Louis Litt. He vainly tried to avoid the man's ratty gaze, but Louis was already honed in on him like a carrier pigeon.

"Mike, I want you to go through the Messer briefs," he said.

Mike didn't even bother to hide his dismay. He sighed and sidestepped Louis, muttering: "Louis, I'd like to, but I have a thing with – "

But Louis was fast. He slapped a bunch of files to his chest. And as Mike awkwardly tried to stop the cascade of files from ending up in a mess on the floor, Louis smirked, patting him on his shoulder.

"Don't care, get it done by 2pm." Louis shoved the briefs into his rubbery arms, but this time, his arms did not cooperate. They fell in a heap on the ground. Louis stopped in his tracks, turned and frowned heavily at the mess.

"What is this? A joke?" he demanded.

_That's it_, he thought as rage bubbled up from inside him. _This is when I officially lose it._

"No. This is me saying that I have a 'thing' with Harvey, which outweighs your damn briefs in importance, and that I'm not, nor will I _ever _be, your personal assistant!" he snapped.

The stabbing pain behind his eyes suddenly increased alarmingly. He grunted in pain, clutching his head with his right hand. The sunlight streaming through the windows were suddenly too much to bear.

Louis snarled and stepped threateningly towards him. When Harvey did that, he looked like he was about to eat you alive. When Louis did that … well, he looked like he was getting ready for the macarena. Mike stifled the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. Damn, he didn't have the time for this, he thought. Without a word, Mike turned and walked away, leaving Louis flabbergasted and with a pile of paperwork strewn across the floor.

"You are so _fired_, Mike Ross!" he heard him yell.

"Harvey beat you to it. Like always," he mumbled as he rubbed his forehead absently.

The headache was now a full blown migraine. And the people around him had turned into blurry shapes that seemed unreal, like figures in a television show. More alarmingly, his ears began to ring and red streaks shot across his eyes.

He should've been freaked out by all of this, but for some reason he felt oddly euphoric and above it all. Perhaps it's because of the call he got from Lola on the way up to the office. He smiled at that, thinking about how they're going to stick it to Leah Johnson. And then, as he was thinking that, he somehow ended up in a room. He frowned, wondering where he was and how he even got here. Who was he supposed to be meeting again?

He realised that it didn't matter because he had to write down what Lola told him because that's really important. Absently, he picked up a marker from the shiny table.

Somewhere in the background, someone was speaking to him agitatedly, but he didn't let it bother him. In fact, he was pretty sure nothing could ever bother him again …


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **TamedChaos – I actually find writing Harvey and Mike's interplay very challenging. They are such rich, unique characters that you really need to get into their head to understand what they would do in any situation. But really, thank you for your kind comment about my writing. That brightened my day. Thanks all as well for reading my little story.

By the way, I'm no doctor so I may get some facts wrong. I did research the best I could, however, so I hope that it's realistic enough. Apologies in advance if I did flub up. Now, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: In chapter 1.

**Chapter Five**

Donna was "fearsome awesome". But Diana, Jessica's secretary, was fearsome terrifying. As she marched down the corridor, all wild-haired and flaring nostrils, everyone made sure to move out of the way lest they be mowed down by her fury. She barged into Harvey's office despite Donna's protests. Soon, a group of curious associates were looking in to see what the commotion was all about.

When Diana finally stood before Jessica in Harvey's office, she placed her hands on her bony hips and said bitingly: "Miss Pearson. You've got a problem."

As one, Harvey, Jessica and even Nathan Rollins looked up. She was the only one who ever dared to interrupt Jessica during a meeting. But Jessica tolerated it because if Diana ever did so it was for an incredibly good reason – either the apocalypse has just happened or –

Diana pointed a skeletal finger at Harvey, and her voice rang, clear and loud in the room. "Your associate is drunk. In Miss Pearson's office."

"Drunk? What do you mean?" Jessica rose from her seat.

Diana pushed up her black rimmed glasses and pursed her lips. "He is violating the sanctity of your office – " she sniffed derisively. "– by doodling on the walls."

Jessica's mouth hung open in utter disbelief – Harvey had never seen her so shocked before. And to know that he was indirectly the source of her amazement left Harvey so mortified that he didn't know what to do with his facial muscles.

Jessica narrowed her eyes and glared at Harvey. "What the hell is going on with your associate, Harvey?"

"I wish I knew," he said, his lips in a thin line. Perhaps he should've just let Mike go yesterday. He had thought that "firing" him would scare the bejesus out of him and straighten him out. But it would seem that it did the complete opposite.

They headed towards Jessica's office – even Rollins, who had a tiny smirk on his face. The man must think that this was the bit of levity he needed in an otherwise horrible day. By the time they got to the office, there was already a crowd there. And at the front of the horde were Greg and Kyle – one of the many thorns in Mike's side at the firm – who were chuckling to each other as they took photos with their mobiles.

"See. Told you he was a pothead," Kyle was saying.

Impatiently, Harvey pushed the two associates aside. He thought that he would be prepared for anything, but he certainly wasn't ready for the sight of Mike Ross drawing circles on the glass walls of Jessica's office.

"Oh. Em. Gee," Donna said. Donna was rarely shocked by anything, but it looked like she made an exception today.

"Shit," Harvey said under his breath.

It was too late to do anything subtle now. Sighing heavily, he roughly pushed the door open and walked right next to Mike.

"What the hell are you doing, Mike?" he said in a low voice.

Mike turned slowly, and stared at him with glassy eyes. The marker dropped from his hand, and he shifted his gaze to the hand, as if he was puzzled that it was there in the first place.

"He is _so _out of it," Donna said behind him. "It's kinda fascinating to watch," she said brightly.

Jessica stepped in next, and Harvey turned in time to see her shaking her head at the sight of Mike staring at his hands in fascination.

"Diana. I need you to call security. _Now_," Jessica said flatly. She trained her steely gaze on Harvey.

"Care to explain why your associate is high, Harvey?"

He was at a loss to explain this but was saved when Mike suddenly turned away from them wandered towards the couch.

"Wait," it was Rollins this time. He walked past all of them and stared at Mike curiously. Mike was turning in a slow circle, staring at the ceiling dazedly as he picked at his coat distractedly.

Jessica sighed and grimaced. "I'm so sorry for this. I want to reassure you that this never happens –"

But Rollins merely waved her away. Harvey and Jessica watched, puzzled, as Rollins approached Mike cautiously.

"Mike?" Rollins called out. "Mike. Can you hear me?"

Mike stopped and then looked at him, his gaze blank. Then, as if disconcerted by Rollins' stare, he shifted his gaze away.

"He's not drunk," Rollins said, looking at them gravely. "He's having a seizure."

"What?" Jessica exclaimed.

Harvey and Donna exchanged shocked glances.

"Are you sure?" Harvey said.

"Trust me. He's having a complex partial seizure," Rollins said.

For the first time in his life, Harvey was speechless. He had no idea what a complex partial seizure was, but it was as if he could now see things clearly. How, when he was at his door, Mike had squinted at him as if the light hurt him, how tired he had looked the past few days, how he had seemed scattered, disoriented...

Now he could only stare as Rollins gently placed an around Mike's shoulders, guided him to the sofa and sat him down. Mike just stared blankly ahead as he continued fumbling with his coat.

"What do we do now?" Donna said, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Jessica came to stand next to him, staring with concern at Mike, who was blinking slowly, as if trying to fight off sleep.

"We wait for it to pass," Rollins said quietly.

"How long does this usually last?" Harvey asked, finally finding his voice.

"Usually a few minutes," Rollins said quietly, his eyes still on Mike.

Then, the serene blankness was suddenly replaced by confusion. Mike slowly looked up at the four of them staring at him, his face twisted in a mixture of confusion and fear. But he didn't speak … as if he couldn't speak. And that made Harvey more than a little concerned.

"Mr Ross? Can you hear me?" Jessica asked.

And it occurred to Harvey that he had never heard Jessica speak directly to Mike nor call him by his name. She only mentioned him when she spoke to Harvey, and it was always "your associate" or "that associate of yours".

Mike at least reacted to her question by turning his stricken gaze towards her. Still, he made no effort to speak.

The click of a camera phone snapped Harvey out of his daze. He cursed, and stalked threateningly towards the crowd of associates at the entrance.

"Share the photos on Facebook, Twitter or what have you and I'm going to slap a harassment suit on you so hard that you won't see out of a mail room for the rest of your careers," he said in a deceptively calm voice.

Kyle and Greg slowly shoved their phones into their coats as they hastily dispersed along with the other associates.

With that matter settled, he hurriedly returned to Mike's side. "How is he?"

Mike's left hand began twitching – that was the only warning they got before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell back, his body jerking spasmodically.

"Help me lie him down!" Rollins yelled.

Harvey uprooted himself from his frozen position and helped Rollins lie Mike flat on the couch. He backed away then, and could only look on helplessly as Mike twisted and shook violently in the couch, the whites of his eyes rolled up into his head.

The seizure seemed to go on forever. When it was finally over, Harvey was breathing hard and trembling, staring at Mike's pale face.

"Shit," he whispered.

Donna stared, wide eyed, a trembling hand over her mouth while Jessica stood frozen in shock at her side.

Rollins checked Mike's pulse, his brow furrowed. Then he felt Mike's forehead. And the frown grew deeper.

"What do we do now?" Jessica asked nervously.

Rollins looked at them, his face grim. "We make him as comfortable as we can. Then we call the paramedics. He's running a high fever. Both of this together is never a good sign."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Five minutes after the seizure, Mike's eyes flickered open. He stared into Donna's eyes for a long time before he groaned and clutched restlessly at the thin blanket.

"Harvey, he's awake," Donna said softly.

Harvey and Jessica quickly made their way to Mike's side. Mike rolled his eyes sluggishly around the room before finally settling on the four of them staring down at him. He stared at them in confusion, then murmured, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, honey, you're just ..." Donna trailed off and then looked at Harvey uncertainly.

"You passed out," Harvey said shortly. He felt that no further explanation was necessary since Mike appeared so out of it he probably wouldn't understand what was said anyway.

He was right. Because Mike then looked at Jessica with his unfocused blue eyes. "She called me honey," he remarked. "My mum used to call me that."

"Take it easy, Michael. You're going to be all right," Jessica said as she awkwardly patted his shoulder.

"I messed up your case," Mike directed his remark to Rollins this time.

Rollins gave him a small smile. "Seeing that you've been sick, I think I'll let you off for now."

Mike swallowed nervously and rolled his eyes towards the door.

"They're going to see me like this, aren't they? I've got to get up," he murmured as he struggled to sit up.

Harvey quickly pushed him down.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

Mike stared back at him uncertainly with dazed eyes. Then, Donna placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Diana and I will have the hallway cleared. Anyone who dares to come near will be stuck with a hot poker in the ass. Promise," she said, smiling.

That made him grin. "That has gotta hurt."

But he winced soon after. "God. My head hurts," he whispered, lifting a shaky hand to his forehead. His hand flopped heavily to his side and he sighed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Then his breathing began to even out as his eyes slowly slid close.

"Mike?" Harvey called worriedly. He reached out and touched the man on the forehead – God, he was burning up. How could he not notice that he was this sick? How could he have assumed that he was high?

Mike's eyes opened slightly and flickered lazily towards him, but he didn't say anything. And a few moments later, they finally slid close.

"It's normal," Rollins said. "The confusion, disorientation … the lethargy. Most won't even remember waking up. I won't be surprised if that's the case for him."

"But he's going to be okay, _right_?" Donna said.

"Until he gets to the hospital, it's hard to say. The fever is a bad sign," he said grimly.

Donna and Harvey exchanged worried glances.

"Miss Pearson, the paramedics are here," Diana said as she marched hurriedly into the room. Gone was the disdain and imperiousness from before. Diana now looked at Mike with concern.

"Is the young man all right?"

"He woke up, but was disoriented," Jessica said to Diana and also to the paramedics who were entering the office.

They moved aside as the paramedics worked on Mike.

"Any history of seizures, sir?" one of them asked Harvey.

"I... I don't think so," he said hesitantly.

"How long ago did this happen?"

To Harvey's relief, Rollins stepped in then, rattling a series of symptoms to them like he was reading a shopping list. They nodded and efficiently moved around Mike – listening to his heart beat, checking his respiration, and then finally moving him to a stretcher.

True to Donna's promise, the hallway was clear.

They followed the stretcher down the corridor. Associates and paralegals stood standing at the sides, staring, as they wheeled Mike pass them – Harvey couldn't take his eyes off Mike's ashen face, obscured by the oxygen mask that he was now wearing.

When the stretcher finally disappeared into the lift, he felt Jessica place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. But all he could do was stare at the closed doors numbly, wondering if what happened just happened.

"Hey, I just heard this amazing story about Mike doodling on the walls – "

He glared icily at Louis, whose smile instantly fell.

"What?"

Jessica folded her arms and looked at him disapprovingly.

"Ross just had a seizure, Louis. The paramedics just took him away to St Mary's," Jessica said sharply.

"Oh ..." Louis looked at a loss. "I heard a much different story. A less sad one," he mumbled.

"Deal with the associates and nip that story in the bud, Louis. Ross doesn't need water cooler scuttlebutt right now. Anyone spreading rumours is going to have to deal with me."

Louis nodded stiffly.

Now that Mike was gone, Harvey felt the ice in his blood grow. Focus, he told himself. Focus on the case.

"Mr Rollins, should we continue in my office?" he said.

As one, Rollins, Donna and Jessica stared at him in surprise.

"Harvey – " Jessica began.

Harvey turned away and began walking to his office. "Mike's in good hands," he said stiffly. "Just because he's sick doesn't mean that the work stops."

But his shaking hands betrayed him and he slid them in his trouser pocket to stop their trembling. Jessica easily caught up to him and stopped him with a firm hand to his chest.

"For goodness sakes, Harvey. Stop the bullshit and just go with Donna already," she said.

He stopped, staring at her well-manicured hands on his chest.

"Because you're not fooling anybody, _boss_," Donna said, appearing next to Jessica. Her green eyes were flashing with annoyance. "And no one's around to appreciate the play anyway," she said.

"If that makes you feel any better. I'll go with you," said Rollins. "Then we can discuss my case in the car."

Harvey smiled, momentarily amused by all of them ganging up on him with their concern.

Then Louis said: "Yeah, just go, Harvey. I'll handle this with Jessica."

He raised an eyebrow at Louis. _Et tu_, Louis?

"I may not be the best closer in the business – and that is unproven by the way – but I know my way around a lawsuit, Harvey. Just go already," he said.

Harvey sighed, and rocked on his heels. He finally gave Louis a curt nod and walked silently towards the lifts with Donna and Rollins beside him.

- S - S - S -

"Shit. You're not kidding, are you?" Ray shook his head and briefly lifted his eyes to the rear view mirror, meeting Harvey's eyes. "Kid looked healthy as a horse."

"Not the last few days he wasn't," he said tightly.

And he had ignored all the signs.

Mike had been distracted, confused even but Harvey had chalked it up to the pressure they were all feeling. And when Mike just froze on him that day, gazing blankly ahead of him like his thoughts suddenly stopped, he had jumped to what he thought was the most likely fact: He was high. Mike had tried to tell him that he wasn't, but he was certain, certain that he was just lying. That he was just a pothead in denial. Harvey made it his career to read people – and it disturbed him that he had read Mike wrong.

If he had paid attention, saw how tired he was or believed him... Mike hadn't given him a reason to doubt his sincerity at sticking to his promise since that pot incident with Louis. He should have believed him.

"Stop beating yourself up, Harvey," said Rollins.

He flinched but didn't respond to the man.

"A lot of people make the same mistake thinking that a man's drunk when he's having a complex partial seizure. I only caught it because I have seen quite a few. So, get over it," he said.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Donna give him a pointed look.

Harvey was quiet for a while, then hesitantly, he asked: "Is he going to be all right?"

"Normally, complex seizures may look disturbing … but the person is left none the worse to wear."

"Normally?" The way Rollins said the word indicated it was anything but. 

"As you can see, this is not a normal case. Not with the fever. You sure he doesn't have a history of seizures?"

"Not that I know of." But he had to admit that he didn't know if Mike lied in that area – he may have been so eager to get the job that he'd gloss over some medical facts.

Rollins was quiet.

"This is bad, isn't it?" Harvey said quietly.

Rollins did look at him this time, and his face said it all. Harvey was surprised at the level of fear that coursed through him then. It froze him to his seat, and made him think things that he'd normally wouldn't bother thinking – like what would it be like without Mike not around.

"I don't know him well, but I can see that Mike's tough," Rollins said when he saw the fear in his eyes. "Did he tell you that he stopped me from jumping off the roof a few days ago?"

His eyes widened at the piece of news. So, that was what took Mike so long. He'd given him the third degree about that. He felt another stab of guilt.

Rollins chuckled like it was the funniest thing in the world. "Most lawyers I know. They don't bother with such things. But that kid – he's got a heart. He actually fucking _cares_. Men like that – I want them to survive," Rollins said.

"And I'm going to help him do that," he added after a brief pause.

Harvey looked at him in surprise.

"The hospital can stop me being his doctor over my dead body. I'm the best diagnostician in town. So, sue me," Rollins muttered. Then, he grinned.

"Oh wait, they've already done that," he said.

Harvey returned his grin. And then it was time to get down because they've arrived at the hospital.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: **Phreakycat – Thanks for the nice, long detailed review. (I like long reviews – hint, hint!) Yes, I did do a lot research on complex partial seizures and really wanted to capture what it really felt like (so I visited forums etc, to see what people were saying). I'm not sure if I pegged it down 100%, of course, but I'm glad someone said that it's authentic enough. I felt that CPS is so misunderstood (people have actually died because people thought they were drunk etc) that I wanted the information to get out there in any way.

Still, again, I'm no doctor so the medical details may not be 100% accurate.

Anyway, onwards to the story!

**Chapter Seven**

Beneath the darkness of his eyelids, Mike Ross knew only one thing. He ached. Every part of his body – including his _hair _– was throbbing with a dull ache. As he searched for clues to his current predicament in his usually sharp and limitless memory, he was surprised to find that he came up empty. Unlike most, Mike never had any problems with recall – not even a bit. That startlingly new experience made him fight hard enough to open his heavy eyelids, but he managed only a tiny slit.

A bland, white ceiling. Nothing like the ceiling of his apartment, which had stains and soot marks from a fire accident courtesy of a previous tenant. So, this was not his apartment. Then, he felt the crisp sheets he was lying on, and the light blanket that covered him up to his neck. And as if his senses came awake all at once – he felt a flood of sensations: The sting of needles in his arms, the sound of beeping in the background, and the heat – the all consuming heat that seemed to radiate from within him. The fever that had dogged him the last few days had turned into a monster that was now threatening to devour him whole.

He froze, stunned by the onslaught of sensations and the realisation that all was indeed not right. He quickly struggled to get up but found his arms completely useless in the task. He fell heavily into the bed as he struggled to draw breath into his labouring lungs. His weakness alarmed him further.

"Hey, hey, easy ..."

The voice. He knew he should recognise it, but his memory failed him once more. He saw a man – dark hair, concerned dark eyes … wearing an expensive suit … bending over him. He shrank back – the man looked extraordinarily close and huge.

"Harvey. Harvey Specter," he croaked, pleased that he could finally fish the name from his memory banks.

Harvey gave him a small smile. "Glad your memory's intact."

He shook his head feebly. "I'm not supposed to be here."

Harvey frowned.

"I was heading to your office … and then …. nothing. Why can't I remember? I should – " He managed to use his elbows to push himself up briefly but Harvey quickly grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back down. Before he sank in a heap in the bed, he saw the sterile surroundings of his current abode – a hospital room.

He breathed heavily, trying to make sense of it all. His mind was churning so wildly that he didn't realise that Harvey was speaking to him.

"... you've been sick," Harvey was saying.

He turned to his side, blinking eyes that felt like they were burning in their sockets. "What?" he croaked.

Harvey sat down and placed a hand on his chest that was rising and falling at an alarming rate.

"It's okay, take it easy."

"No, it's not okay," he bit out. "I don't remember anything. Why can't I remember anything? What's wrong with me?"

Harvey seem to consider his question then said softly: "You've had a seizure. One of the side effects is memory loss. It's normal."

"Normal? The hell it is! What the hell did you do to me? Get your fucking hands off me!" he yelled, pushing Harvey's hand away from his chest as he struggled to get up again.

"So is extreme mood swings. Apparently," Harvey muttered.

Mike found himself thoroughly restrained by Harvey, who pinned him down. Frustrated, he lay back in a sweaty heap in the bed, staring angrily at his tormentor.

"Get the hell off me," he growled.

Somehow, in a vague, distant way, Mike knew that he was behaving … rather out of it. But at this moment, all he felt was rage at the man who held down his arms. And he remembered how angry he had been for the last few days. No, for the last few months. All the impossible tasks, cutting remarks, tough love pep talks swirled around in his addled mind and it made him want to –

"Kill you," he muttered. "I'm going to fucking kill you!" he kicked out at him, which caused Harvey to let go. Free at last, Mike found a sudden surge of strength and pushed himself off the bed.

"Nurse! Someone get in here now!" he heard Harvey yell.

Hearing Harvey yell like that startled him. He froze, and what he saw confused him: Harvey was breathing hard, his hands held out in front of him as if he was ready to grab something and staring at him like he was some kind of wounded wild animal. And it hit him once again that all was not right in his universe, because Harvey Specter was not the sort to be rattled by anything. Exhausted, Mike felt all the strength suddenly drain from him and he felt himself tipping forward –

"Shit!" he heard Harvey curse.

Black spots danced before his vision; he didn't know which way was up or down, but he felt someone laying him down on something soft, and he let them. The world spun around him like a hyperactive top and the heat that boiled his blood turned to ice. He shuddered.

Overwhelmed by it all, Mike forgot that Harvey was there, or his frantic desire to know what the hell was happening, because his world had contracted to the pain and heat that suddenly became all consuming. All he wanted now was for the misery to be over.

And then it was, because the world went dark.

- S - S - S -

Harvey Specter was never at a loss. Throw him a complicated legal problem, and he always found a solution. Sure, they may not always be by the book. But he won. Always. But when he found himself confronted with a wild-eyed Mike Ross in the throes of delirium, he found himself completely clueless.

Then, Mike tipped over, threatening to fall flat on his face on the cold, hard floor, and instinct took over. He wrapped his arms around the sick man's body and Mike's head lolled listlessly on his shoulder. The heat that emanated from his body shocked him, and he stared wordlessly at Mike for a few seconds. Then, he gently placed Mike in the bed, drawing the blankets up his heaving chest.

"Mike?" he called out softly.

Mike didn't answer. As he breathed raggedly, his half opened eyes stared sightlessly at him.

Then, a gaggle of nurses and doctors surrounded them, and he backed off from Mike's bed and allowed them to take over. They were calling out stats and orders as they prodded and poked the now unconscious Mike.

Harvey was hardly ever sick – he fought colds like his cases. With a cold, calculated plan and a deep determination to win at all cost. He'd not associated with anyone that had more than a sniffle, so this was a world that was completely foreign to him. And Harvey didn't like things that he didn't understand.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Mike, who lay limply in bed, sweating heavily and mumbling something under his breath as he tossed restlessly. Then, he didn't see anything anymore because the nurse shooed him out of the room and closed the door behind him.

- S - S - S -

"Is he all right?" he tried to keep the demanding tone away from his voice because the last thing he needed to do was to be on the wrong side of the books with Mike's doctor.

"He's fine. As fine as a man deep in delirium can be," said Rollins.

"And you still don't know what's causing this?"

A new voice boomed in. "We have an idea, but we need to have the lab tests back to confirm our findings."

Behind him, Rollins rolled his eyes when the new doctor gave Harvey his hand.

"Dr Matthews. I'm in charge of Mike's case."

"I think there has been a mistake. Dr Rollins is his doctor," Harvey said. He saw Rollins widen his eyes in surprise.

Dr Matthews took in Rollins' dishevelled appearance and then chuckled. "I was told that Dr Rollins doesn't have any right to practise – "

"Don't be an ass. I still have my license," Rollins snapped, then snatched the file that the doctor was holding and flipped through the pages.

"Why the hell have you not scheduled an MRI?"

Before Matthews could form an answer, Rollins slapped the file to his chest.

"Do it," he said. Then, with another roll of his eyes, he walked away.

Dr Matthews sighed. "I think this is going to be … complicated."

Harvey ignored that, and returned to Mike's side. He looked at Mike, who was now resting comfortably in his room. Well, comfortably enough – he was now sweating profusely, and had an oxygen mask over his too-pale face.

And it had only been eight hours since Mike was admitted.

Harvey winced, remembering the series of tests Mike had to go through after he was admitted. One of which included a painful-looking spinal tap; he was thankful that Mike was unconscious during that procedure.

The spinal tap was negative for meningitis, something they – and that included Rollins, which the hospital insisted could not consult on this case – were worried about at first. But that left the doctors at a loss until Rollins pointed out the small band aid on Mike's left wrist. After removing said band aid, the doctors became really excited – but they weren't sharing their knowledge with him just yet.

Rollins, pitying him, said to him after they were gone: "It looks like a case of antibiotic-resistant bacteria," he said.

The word "resistant" made his heart speed up. "But you can do something, right?"

Rollins didn't answer, which made him worry even more. Because if it was indeed what Rollins said Mike had, it wouldn't be good news. That much he knew. So he ardently prayed that this wasn't a case of antibiotic-resistant bacteria. That it was some obscure but entirely curable disease.

"It's just a hypothesis, Specter. Nothing's conclusive until the lab test results are back," Rollins said.

So, he waited.

"How is he?"

He jumped. He found Jessica next to him, looking at him curiously. He sighed.

"It's not good," he admitted. "He was delirious, out of his head. Wanted to kill me."

"That sounds like the normal reaction of anyone who has met you."

Harvey threw her a surprised look – because Jessica only made a joke in a dire situation when she was nervous. And if it was an especially bad joke, it meant that she was really, really nervous. And he only saw her nervous once – when he found out that she was married.

"You're nervous," he said incredulously.

Jessica didn't make a move to deny it. "I'm … unsettled. I thought he was … on drugs," guilt flickered across her features.

Jessica crossed her arms over chest protectively and avoided his gaze. Instead, she looked down at Mike.

"So did I. But I should've known. Mike may be many things but spaced out and stupid isn't one of them … and he won't be stupid to break a promise again."

Jessica threw him a puzzled look and Harvey cleared his throat, realising that he had said too much already.

"What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on one of my associates. Is that so unusual?"

"Very. I think this is the first time you've done such a thing."

"Well, this is the first time an associate had a seizure in my office."

"Well, you can't say that things have been boring since he joined us," he said, grinning weakly.

Jessica merely smiled. They watched Mike sleep for a while, and then, in a surprisingly motherly gesture, Jessica reached out to brush a lock of unruly hair that was obscuring his face.

"Tell me if there is any change," she said, her eyes still on Mike. Then, she squeezed Harvey's shoulder and left.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Harvey Specter made reading people his sixth sense. And right now, his sixth sense was tingling. He saw it in Rollins, whose frown deepened when he studied Mike's charts. He saw it in the furtive looks the nurses threw at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Something was wrong, deeply wrong, and he hated being out of the loop.

He got it. Sometimes he hid things from his clients as well. It was too troublesome to tell them what he had planned, and most of the time they just panicked anyway. Better to just deal with it, neat and tidy behind the scenes, without the unnecessary drama. He got it. But he didn't like it when it was done to him.

He balanced the files on his lap and stared at Mike's drawn, and frighteningly pale face. It has been ten hours since he was admitted to this hospital, and Mike had gotten worse. Since awakening in full blown delirium four hours ago, Mike hadn't moved an inch. He just lay there, his breathing fast and shallow, his hair growing damp from sweat. His fever, said a nurse, had grown worse. It was now 105, and they were doing all they can to bring it down. But the unspoken message he got from them all was that whatever they were doing wasn't enough. Whatever strange disease that felled Mike Ross in just 48 hours was dragging him to death's door.

He shook his head, angry at the direction his thoughts were going. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and was surprised to see Mike's blue ones staring at him when he removed his hand.

"Hey," he said cautiously, unsure if Mike was entirely lucid or not.

Mike didn't reply at first, but then he sighed. He slowly reached out to move the oxygen mask from his face, but Harvey stopped him with a firm grip to his hand.

"You need that on," he said.

Mike sighed in resignation.

"I have a funny feeling … that I did something embarrassing," he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.

He tried not to let his alarm over Mike's apparent deterioration show on his features. "Oh yeah?" he said as indifferently as he could.

Mike nodded then gave him a tired smile. "I think I said I wanted to kill you."

Harvey shrugged. "You're not the first. You won't be the last."

Mike groaned in embarrassment. "So I really did try to kick you?"

"Don't worry, you missed," he said, smiling.

"Man. That's just so … _girly_," he muttered. His eyes slid close, and Harvey thought he was asleep again. He was about to leaf through the file again when he heard Mike weakly call his name.

"What is it?"

"The case. I just remembered."

"That's the last thing you need to worry about now. Sleep," he said brusquely.

Mike swallowed and shook his head feebly. "I don't know how I could've forgotten – "

Harvey leaned over so that his face was only inches away from Mike's.

"Mike. Listen to me. It's no longer your problem. _I've _got it."

"Harvey … when I realised I screwed up the case, I called in some favours. Lola," he said, whispery soft.

Lola, the daughter of tycoon James Morrisson. She also happened to be a brilliant hacker who inserted Mike's name into the Harvard Law rolls.

"She found something. I was supposed to tell you today but … I was just so ..."

Harvey reached out and grasped Mike's hand. "I _got _it. You don't have to explain, Mike." he said.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me. I keep forgetting things."

"It's the fever, Mike."

Then, his eyes suddenly widened. "Harvey. My grandmother," he whispered.

Harvey cursed silently. In the chaos, he had completely forgotten to call Mike's grandmother.

"Don't worry, Donna's already on it," he said. Which she probably was. Thank God for her.

Mike relaxed then sucked in a tremulous breath when he suddenly shook with chills. Harvey could only pull the blankets higher and watch helplessly until the fit passed.

"Harvey."

He nodded.

"Am I dying?"

He froze. How does one answer something like that? "Don't talk like that."

"I have to consider it. I have to think about Grammy."

"You need to think about yourself. Specifically that you need to rest."

"Promise me you'll take care of her if anything happens to me," he whispered, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Mike. Don't be dramatic," he said, but there was no punch to his words. Instead, he just felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Harvey Specter wasn't responsible for anyone but himself. He had made it his life motto – but he knew that he would step up to the plate if Mike … no. No, he refused to go there.

Mike looked at him fearfully at first, but to his surprise, he suddenly grinned. "I just realised … that you're here. You have a bleeding heart, Harvey Specter."

Harvey was about to make up same lame excuse when he saw the light just go out from Mike's blue eyes. One moment Mike was there, and the next … he was just _gone_. He heard a long, soft exhalation, and Mike went still, his half open blue eyes staring blankly at him.

And all at once the monitors began shrieking.

He got up hastily, and the files fell from his icy hands. When a squad of nurses and doctors suddenly appeared, he backed away reluctantly. He could vaguely see the frantic activity around Mike, and saw how a female doctor was doing CPR on him, but his gaze was sharply focused on Mike's dull, half-opened eyes.

"Goddamn it Mike," he whispered as the doctor pressed down on his chest again and again. "Don't you dare make me watch you die."

- S - S - S -

They had intubated him, saying that he was now too weak to breathe on his own. He was vaguely aware that Rollins was there somewhere in the room, talking in low, heated tones with Dr Matthews.

"Mike. Don't do that again," he said under his breath as he studied the still face before him.

Mike was unresponsive, of course. His chest rose in a steady, dependable, and utterly artificial cadence.

"How the hell do you always end up making things so … crazy?" Harvey wondered out loud.

And he found himself reaching out and clasping Mike's hand, careful to avoid the IV that pierced his wrist. If Mike had been awake, he would certainly have been alarmed by this sudden public display of affection (and so would Harvey). But Harvey figured that it didn't really matter now – especially since Mike wouldn't remember a thing if he woke up.

And he _will _wake up.

"I'm going to win the case. And you're going to rest and not have a care in the world because your job's done. We are taking care of your grandmother as we speak and ... Rollins even has your back. So listen to me and just rest," he said awkwardly.

He gave Mike's hand a gentle squeeze and then stood up.

It was time to get to work.


	9. Chapter 9

**Acknowledgment: **To Aqua Mage, Thera-Rocklynn, juniper294, SmoothDoggie and MegalegU – thank you for leaving feedback, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**SmoothDoggie** wrote _"I'd love to see your interpretation of Mike dealing with PTSD from his parents death when you're finished with this story. Do you take requests? Is there a formal way I need to ask, if you do?"_

Ah, I've never been asked before, truly! But Mike dealing with PTSD from his parents' death seems like a common theme in Suits fic, and I'm really intrigued by it, so the answer is yes. I'll try tackle this after I finish this fic. I want to try break out of the usual "he was in an accident with them" fics and try a different approach, if need be. Thanks for idea – love the plot bunny :) Now, to the story!

**Chapter Nine**

Lola Jensen, surprisingly, wasn't a late night kind of girl, even if most of her friends were of that species. So, she wasn't prepared to receive guests at her apartment in Soho at 2am in the morning. She rubbed her tired eyes and yawned as she peered into the peep hole. She stopped, mid-yawn, when she realised who was standing at her door: Harvey Specter. Actually, Harvey with matted hair, out of his suit and in a dishevelled white shirt that looked as if it had been slept in.

She opened the door hastily, and then stared at him in bewilderment. Usually if Harvey was at your doorstep it meant two things: a) He or his client is going to sue your ass b) If the fates were kind, he needs your help to sue someone else's ass. She was hoping for b.

"Mike said you have something for me," he said.

No hello, no how are you. Just straight to business. That, at least, was the Harvey she knew.

"Geez, you look like you spent a year in hell," she remarked dryly.

He merely stared wordlessly at her. He obviously wasn't in the mood to bandy words with her.

"Do you have it, or not?" he half growled at her.

"Come in, Mr Sunshine," she drawled, throwing the door wide open.

"Take a seat," she said.

She proceeded to sweep the pile of papers from her dilapidated couch to the floor, but Harvey merely stared at the now-cleared space on the couch as if it harboured deadly diseases.

Still standing, he said brusquely: "No time. I just need what Mike said you found about Pharma."

She grinned. "What, you're doing his work now? How magnanimous. Though, to be honest, I was really pissed when he didn't call me today. We were supposed to take down Pharma in a big way and I was invited for the show. But I thought maybe he didn't need me anymore. Because that would have – "

"He's sick."

That caught her by surprise. "Oh yeah, with what?" she asked hesitantly, instinctively feeling that she wasn't going to like where this was going.

When Harvey didn't answer, Lola took a good look at him and realised how haggard he looked … how his eyes were devoid of the easy confidence she was used to.

"Shit, Harvey. What the hell happened?" She was worried now.

"The doctors don't know what's wrong with him," he said softly.

"It's bad," she said, realising what this meant.

"It's bad," he agreed.

And he gave her a much abbreviated account of the situation. How Mike had a seizure in the office. How he then had to be rushed to the hospital. How he flatlined in the middle of a conversation with him.

"Shit," she said, not knowing what else to say. She didn't know Mike that well, but the man had a good heart – for a lawyer. They were kindred spirits who had bonded over acts of misfit.

But Harvey obviously wanted to get this business over and done with – she had a sneaky suspicion that he was dying to return to Mike's side. So, she brought him her laptop, and showed Harvey what she and Mike found that night.

"You and Mike spent the whole night doing this?"

"Yeah. I think he went home around five or something. He was pretty bummed about something and that was driving him on, I could see that. Brought out my motherly instincts," she murmured.

He sighed and then rubbed tiredly at his face. In all the split second encounters she had with Harvey while he acted as her father's lawyer, Lola had never seen Harvey this … emotional. It was a pleasant revelation that the man she had called Mr Ass Wipe behind his back had some warm-blooded parts.

"Hey. You okay?"

Harvey merely looked at her, then said: "Can you print this out?"

She fished out a file from beneath the pile of papers lying on her coffee table. "Already have," she said, handing it to him.

Harvey turned to leave.

"Hey, Harvey?"

He stopped and wearily looked back at her.

"You hit them where it really hurts, you hear?"

He grinned weakly at that.

"That's guaranteed," he said.

- S - S - S -

It was 4am. Another sleepless night, another day without sleep. And like before, his was the only office that was illuminated at Pearson Hardman.

Seated on his leather couch, with the documents laid out before him on the coffee table, Harvey studied the information that Lola and Mike had painstakingly put together.

It was good work. Mike may have been hopeless at arriving anywhere on time, but Harvey could count on Mike to fish out something out of nowhere at the last minute. And while Harvey may be the best closer in Manhattan, Mike could probably be its best "Rescuer". Or "last minute retrieval specialist", Donna had once wryly commented.

Someone placed a steaming cup of coffee before him. He didn't need to look up to know that it was Donna.

"I heard about what happened," she said softly.

He didn't say anything, merely flipped through the documents absently.

Donna continued. "Rollins said something about septic shock. That they're 90% sure it's antibiotic-resistant bacteria now. Something called MRSA."

He paused in mid flip. It wasn't the news he wanted to hear. But it nevertheless meant things could only go forward now. The conclusion of that journey, however, was highly uncertain.

"I was with Mike's grandmother, if you were wondering," she said as she sat in the arm chair opposite him.

"I know," he said, smiling at her.

She returned his smile, then grew serious.

"I couldn't bear to tell her the whole deal. I told her that he's sick and we're taking good care of him. I don't want her to get a heart attack, you know? Think I made the right call?"

"Last thing Mike needs is to worry about her right now," he said.

"I also paid the fees for the special care facility she's in. Seems like it was due today. God, on his salary, I have no idea how he can have anything left over."

"Fine," he said shortly as he closed the file.

"He's going to get better, you know," she said suddenly.

"Donna. You know I acknowledge your incredible abilities. But I'm pretty sure predicting the future isn't one of your many talents."

"Well. You're going to change your mind when he turns the corner. Then, you'll _know_," she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock seriousness.

"I was going to fire him because he was sick. That was a wrongful termination suit waiting to happen. How did I get _that _wrong?"

"Harvey Specter's human. Imagine that," she said, smirking. "Didn't the doc say something about 'get over it'?"

He could always leave it to Donna to spell it out.

"The Harvey Specter I know is going to use what Mike found and kick Leah Johnson's ass. And he's going to do it with such relish that there won't be anything left of Leah to salvage her puny dignity," she said, her lips curving up into a devious smile.

"And you're going to help me do it?"

"I'm your other side kick. The awesome one," she said, giving him a crooked grin.

"Flattery won't get you a raise, Donna."

"Honey, I don't need flattery to get what I want."

They both laughed.

"I get the can opener?"

He smiled, eyes twinkling. "You bet."

S – S – S

**Postscript**: Don't you just love Donna? But you know, she's one of the toughest characters to write. (Besides Harvey!) It's really easy to overdo her, make her too quippy. But I like a good challenge. I really wonder about the can opener. But I also like how they're keeping it a mystery! (Perhaps can openers are trophys of some sorts or they play some sort of weird game with it. Who knows?)

Anyway, the next chapter is coming pretty soon. Gonna wrap this up by the end of February. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing my humble fic. I truly appreciate every input, dear

readers!

**A – **Yes, that little bit about Lola not being a night owl was something I threw in so that she wouldn't be so stereotypical. Which is why I said, "surprisingly", she isn't a late-night kind of girl. But I can absolutely see how most people who think that she is! But this creative license, of course...

**Alycee – **Wow, thank you for including my story in your community. Yours was one of the few I checked to get my Suits fix!

**Cuppa Char & Stony Angel **- My … we do like to hurt the ones we love, don't we? The whole PTSD thing got me thinking a lot – I want to come up with something really original, so I'm going to let it percolate a little. And I want it to be a realistic portrayal of PTSD as well, so I'm gonna dig in and do some research too :)

**Hollowgirl **– His recovery will be … somewhat delayed, but you know I love him, don't you? :)

**TOHO **– Thank you for dropping by and for your kind words! I must tell you I love your story, "I know"! I will be dropping a review soon. Sorry for being tardy!

**Smooth Doggie **– Don't worry about burdening me! Writing is a delight. I may need a pair of eyes, so thank you for offering to beta!

**Post u Later **– I'm glad you enjoyed the chapters! ;)

Now, on to the story!

**Chapter Ten**

D-Day. And he might as well start the day by telling Mike – never mind that he was now in a coma – that he was going to win this one.

But he didn't expect the scene that greeted him when he entered his room in the ICU. He stopped short, staring at the sight before him.

They were arguing around Mike's inert body, like he wasn't even there or even mattered. Yet the argument was all about him, or what will be done to him.

Surprisingly, Jessica was there, being spoken condescendingly to by a man with beady eyes in a suit. Dr Matthews was next to him, his arm crossed defensively before him as Rollins, who was beside Jessica, shouted heatedly at him, calling him an "ignorant fool with a medical degree from a diploma mill".

He stared at the spectacle in fascination for a few minutes, his exhausted mind too stunned to form a coherent thought. Then, his eyes wandered to Mike in the middle of it all, his skin alabaster white, hooked up to too many monitors to count, and with a tube down his throat. He gritted his teeth.

"Hey!" he yelled.

All four turned to look at him, stunned.

"Mind telling me why everyone forgot that this was a hospital?"

"They're kicking Mike out," Rollins said dryly, fixing accusing eyes at Dr Matthews.

"I did not say that!" Matthews protested.

"Didn't have to. You said all you had to by bringing in Mr Sanctimonious here," Rollins said.

Harvey stared at them all – especially Mr Beady Eyes – in disbelief, then narrowed his eyes.

"All of you. Start from the beginning. _Outside_."

When they were outside – in the waiting room area – the fight continued like it never stopped.

The lawyer was the first to speak. Harvey didn't bother to ask for his name. He knew his type well enough and they were insignificant to him.

"As I informed Dr Rollins, unless he withdraws himself from this case, the hospital will not bear any responsibility for his actions. And we have to, unfortunately, relocate him to another hospital. Perhaps County Medical," he said.

"He will not survive the relocation in his condition, and you _know _that!" Rollins said heatedly.

Dr Matthews and said gently, condescendingly, "We will make sure that we take every precaution – "

"So. You _are _kicking him out," Harvey said, his voice deceptively pleasant and amused.

The lawyer held up his hands as if fending of an attack. "No, like I said to Dr Rollins – the hospital is perfectly happy to treat Mr Ross, but the treatment he is proposing is fraught with risks. And not to mention how we are not certain of his diagnosis – "

"What, the MRSA culture and MRI scan isn't conclusive for you?" Rollins shot at Matthews.

"No, and you _know _that's not what I mean," Matthews snapped.

And the two launched into medical gobbledygook that threw the lawyers in the room out of the loop until Harvey calmly placed a hand on Rollins and Matthews. Though it took all his strength not to grab the rat-faced lawyer by his collar and throw him out.

"The two of you – _shut up_," Harvey said. His voice was low and quiet, but it effectively stopped the two of them from arguing further.

"Just what the hell is wrong with Mike already?"

Whatever it was, he knew it was an answer he did not like.

"Mike is not in a good way, Harvey. It's one of the worst cases of CA-MRSA* I've seen. We needed a more aggressive approach because the MRSA travelled to his brain and there's a brain abscess – that's what's responsible for the seizures, and now it's threatening to shut down his motor functions. Dr Genius wants to use a conventional, insurance-friendly route to treat him.," Rollins said.

"Brain surgery at a time like this is fraught with risks!" Matthews protested.

"So is taking a non-effective route! If the abscess bursts, it will kill him – antibiotics are a long and _slow _shot at this point," he snapped and then shifted his fiery gaze to Harvey.

"You're his medical proxy – you _need _to make a decision _now_."

Harvey stared at them, trying to stem the tide of helplessness he felt. Mike's life was in his hands. How the hell did it get to be this dire?

He took a deep breath and reined his fear in.

"There are two things that I'm going to say now. One: Mike is staying here. Two: Rollins is his doctor. There will be no relocating of patients – unless you want to meet me in court, which, I assure you – isn't what your pet lawyer is going to look forward to."

Matthews and his lawyer exchanged a look. Matthews looked as if he wanted to say something, but the lawyer placed a restraining hand on him.

"All right, Mr Ross will not be transferred. But the surgery will not happen either. We will be back," the lawyer assured him.

"Oh, I know you will," he said.

"I don't believe this!" Rollins hissed. "Harvey, you've got to do something. Mike doesn't have much time."

"I'm doing it now," he said shortly and marched off, leaving Jessica to run up to catch him.

"What are you doing Harvey?"

"A delaying tactic. This is not important right now."

"How is _this _not important?" 

"That's because I'm going to show Pharma something that'll scare them so much that they'll drop this unnecessary harassment. That'll clear the way for Mike to get that surgery. And I thought we made sure that this hospital wasn't under Pharma?"

"It was a top secret deal that was finalised just yesterday, believe it or not. Though they did this in a mighty hurry."

"Another pressure tactic to intimidate Rollins?" he wondered out loud.

"It would appear so."

"They play dirty. But I know how to deal with dirty," he said, his voice a low growl.

- S - S - S -

Leah Johnson looked immaculate as usual, but the smile she wore on her ruby red lips had more than a tinge of triumph to it.

"Hello Harvey, I heard about your associate. I'm truly sorry," she said.

"I'm sure you are, especially when you hauled your Pharma lapdog to his bedside, demanding that Rollins be removed as his doctor and have my associate relocated to another hospital, which will most certainly kill him. Oh yes, and preventing him from having that surgery that will save his life."

Leah tried her best to look surprised – failed – and just chuckled.

"Why, Harvey. I didn't know you had a flair for the theatre," she said, grinning.

Harvey did not respond to the jibe but instead slid a stack of files across the polished table to Leah. He pushed it so hard that they nearly shot off the table. Fortunately, Leah managed to catch them before it happened. Her face red, Leah regained her composure by plastering on a fake smile.

She shook her blond mane and flipped through the documents. But as she progressed, her smile slid off slowly until it became a scowl.

"How the hell did you get this?" she snapped.

"Let's say an anonymous source dropped it off at our doorstep."

She slapped the files shut and gave him a crooked grin. "You know that this isn't admissible in court."

"Sure. But my source doesn't care. He threatened to leak it out to the blogosphere in – " he checked his Rolex. " – two hours if I didn't _talk _to you about it. You've got to thank me, Leah. He wanted to leak it immediately, but seeing that we are both level-headed, _reasonable _professionals, I managed to convince him that we'll reach a satisfactory agreement."

He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, studying Leah with a smirk as her smug smile fell.

"Face it, Leah. You've lost."

A flash of frustration and anger twisted her delicate features before she composed herself.

"This has nothing to do with Rollins," she snapped.

"It has _everything _to do with Rollins. Because in that file is evidence that Pharma has had a history of bullying physicians into denying patients treatments that they desperately need. It has resulted in the deaths of dozens of people, and I'm intrigued by the settlement that will produce. So intrigued, in fact, that Pearson Hardman will be the first in line to represent them in court. I can imagine Michael Moore will be interested to make you guys the main subject of his next expose too. Shall I continue?"

She tapped her glossy red fingernails on the table as she fixed her bright blue eyes on his in defiance. But she refused to answer.

"Leah, I'll put it to you in simple words. We won. You used a technicality to drag Rollins into another suit. He's just another case to add to that file, proof positive that Pharma has been bullying themselves into big profits. What shall it be? Continue the suit _and _fight one of the biggest suits against a medical healthcare organisation this decade, or – " he leaned forward, fixing his dark eyes on her blue ones, "– let this go and return with your pockets untouched?"

"Fine," she said shortly. "It is dropped. And I want the documents destroyed. All of them. And I want the blogger's name."

He smiled. "The files, you have them. The name? Tough luck."

"Leak this on the Internet, and we're going to make sure – "

"Leah. You know you don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to threatening me."

Her face twisted in anger. She pushed herself forcefully away from the table and marched out of the room, leaving her flustered associate to hastily gather up the files.

"Leah?"

She paused and reluctantly looked at him.

"Your mistake was trying the same trick on my associate. Those who mess with my people will always regret it. You better remember that the next time you dare darken my door."

With that, she threw the door open and marched out, leaving her associate frantically scurrying after her.

He stared at their retreating figures for a while, and felt his racing heart slow down. Then, he grinned.

He did it.

No. _They _did it.

- S - S - S -

Harvey didn't know why, but he felt a need to have another look at Mike – despite ensuring that all documents are in order and that Mike will now have that much-needed surgery.

But after Leah marched out of the office, he couldn't sit still or focus, despite having two new cases on his desk – something which usually galvanised him into a flurry of activity almost immediately. He gave up after an hour of idly staring at the same page in the case file. He got to Donna's side and casually mentioned that he felt like he had some place to go, and she merely rolled her eyes at him.

"Go to the hospital, Harvey. Before I cause an embarrassing scene," she said.

Then, Ray didn't need to be told at all where he wanted to be, and in no time they were at the hospital. It was more than a little unnerving to know that the people he worked with seemed to know what the hell he was thinking about. He was getting too predictable.

But when he got to his room at the ICU, he wasn't prepared for the odd sight of a clean-shaven Nathan Rollins in a doctor's white coat standing over Mike's inert body.

"What did you do?" Rollins asked him.

"I thought that was my question," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Matthews stopped being all territorial, and suddenly Mr Sanctimonious left me alone. Which is just in time because Mike needed my intervention," he said.

That got him instantly worried. "What's wrong?"

"His condition has worsened in the last three hours and the abscess has grown. He needs surgery now and you, being his medical proxy, need to okay it immediately," he said and then handed him a few sheets of paper.

With some hesitation, he scanned and then signed the documents. Then, quietly, he said: "Is he going to survive this?"

"The neurosurgeon is one of the best I know. And Mike is young, strong, with a history of good health. That will be in his favour."

Not exactly a "yes", he noted.

"There's a but in there somewhere, isn't there?"

"But … like I said, his is one of the worst cases I've seen … but there have been no other serious complications such as pneumonia or organ failure. There is a chance."

The unsaid words were "slim chance".

Harvey sighed, rubbing his forehead. His head was pounding.

"I'm surprised that you were Mike's medical proxy," Rollins said suddenly.

Harvey turned away, uncomfortable. "It was just convenient. He had no one, only an ailing grandmother. Having a sick associate without a medical proxy was inconvenient. Just never thought I'd ever be called to duty."

Rollins laughed wryly. "Fine. But it's a good thing you're doing. Never thought you had a heart, Harvey Specter."

Harvey didn't acknowledge that. He just studied Mike, watching him breathe with the aid of the ventilator. Wondering, in dismay, how one could just deteriorate so fast like that. Once more, he chided himself for not only not noticing, but thinking Mike was behaving irresponsibly.

"And thank you."

It was a quiet, almost shy remark. That made Harvey turn in surprise.

"I thought I was ready to give it all up but having to treat Mike here … it reminded me that I was good at this. And why I am a doctor," he said, his expression for once open and vulnerable, devoid of the cynicism and bitterness that had been with him since the beginning of their dealings with him.

"No problem," Harvey said.

Rollins nodded, seemingly grateful that that was the end of the touchy feely moment.

"Now that you've signed the documents, we're going to ready him for the operation in a few minutes. The surgery will be done by Dr Sarah Holt – I made sure to get the best neurologist in town – and she's done a dozen of these," Rollins said, all professional now.

"And then … we wait?"

He nodded. "We wait."

-S-S-

CA-MRSA = Community acquired MRSA. MRSA is usually found in the hospitals; meaning, many people contract the infection in hospitals. However, there have been cases where people contract it outside the hospital grounds. Actually, in Mike's case, in can be from the hospital or the community, as he visits his Grammy often in what I assume is a hospital setting. I'm leaving it up in the air for now :)

**Postscript**: Now, I don't claim to have any knowledge of the Law (despite being just a week shy of going to Law school before dropping out to do something else), especially since I'm from a British territory, and our Law is rather different from America's.

But I did some research about insurance/company-owned hospitals and got a rough idea. (Coming from a country where we can get treatment in public hospitals for a couple of dollars, the thought of such things unnerve me!). All this in my fic is probably an exaggeration, however, so I hope you will forgive me if there were some errors. Still, do tell me about the healthcare situation in the US – is it anything like I portrayed? (It's useful to learn for research purposes, of course!) Cheers!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes: **Hello guys! Thank so much for the awesome reviews in the last update. Speaking of which, I'm sorry for the late update. I have been packing, packing, packing and overwhelmed at work. So, as a bonus, I'm posting two chapters!

**Patbor **– Whoa. US healthcare sounds really complex … and it doesn't seem to be advantageous to the disadvantaged.

**Spedreder **– Haha, I did wonder why I came up with Sarah Holt. I was thinking, "Hmm, the surname sounds familiar!" Yes, I watch Gifted Man and it's awesome.

**Josu **– You know, I hope we can see the friendship between Harvey and Mike tested to such an extent in Suits' second season. Now it's all hints and stuff. But if we can just have ONE episode that shows us for sure that level of concern they have for each other, I'll be a happy TV viewer.

**Chapter Eleven**

He knew he couldn't lie to her any longer. Their intentions were to prevent further disaster, but the thought that Mike could die in a hospital while his grandmother remained blissfully unaware of that fact didn't sit well with Harvey. So, when he told Mike's grandmother that he'd be having a risky surgery that could possibly save or kill him, he half expected her to go into full blown hysterics.

But Sarah Ross was made of sterner stuff, apparently. She only fixed her steely gaze on his – and he had to resist the urge to bow his head like a chastened school kid – and said: "You're just like Michael."

Surprised, he frowned at the bit of information, wondering what possible part of him resembled his associate. And then Sarah gave him a tiny smile.

"You protect people. Michael was always trying to protect me."

Then, a flash of anger in her eyes. "Now, you bring me to his bedside right this minute or there will be hell to pay, young man!"

And so there they were half an hour, a hasty doctor's clearance, and a special transport later: next to Mike Ross's bed. His grandmother had sucked in a startled breath when she finally saw him: a still, unmoving, alabaster figure that looked as if he could shatter at any moment. She held his hand – the one not swollen from the infection – tenderly in her gnarled hands while tears ran unabashedly down her cheeks. Harvey wondered if this had been a good idea.

Then, she turned to him and whispered softly: "Thank you."

And the thought never returned.

When they wheeled him away to the operating theatre, Sarah sat at the waiting room, her hand in Donna's, her expression vacant. When she reached for his, he wanted to ignore it at first. But Sarah merely flashed him a look of determination and he caved. He took her hands and they sat side by side, waiting for Mike to come through.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

He knew that something was wrong because he couldn't seem to wake up. He was stuck in the realm of dreams and almost-wakefulness. Voices floated in and out of his consciousness, though most of the time he existed in a pleasant, dreamless world. In this world, time had no meaning. He only knew that he existed, and perhaps because pain seemed far away, his worldly troubles – not that he could even recall them – didn't matter at all.

Then, one day, he was wrenched out of this pleasant limbo state when he heard someone crying. He didn't know how, but his eyes opened – just a crack – and what he saw alarmed him. It was Grammy crying into his hand. He wondered what could have possibly made her cry that way. The only other time that he saw her break down was at his parents' funeral. When they had walked past his father's still body in the coffin and that veneer of will and strength crumbled. As she cupped her dead son's face in her hands, she had sobbed then, and allowed her tears to flow down her cheeks. It only lasted for a few minutes, and then the Grammy he came to know returned. The Grammy who would not cave under pressure, no matter how dire the circumstance.

He knew that he was the cause of her tears even if he didn't remember why.

"Grammy, please don't cry," he said. Though it came out more like an indistinguishable whisper.

It worked. She stopped crying immediately and stared at him, amazed. Then, she smiled, eventhough her tears were still falling like rainfall.

"Michael," she said. "Oh, goodness, you're awake. They said – " she took a deep, shuddering breath. And Mike recognised that gesture – it was what she did when she was steeling herself to face something difficult.

"Never mind what they said. You're going to be fine, do you hear?"

When Grammy spoke like that, you could only obey. So, he nodded. He was so weak he wasn't sure if his head actually moved, but Grammy seemed pleased with his response.

Against his will, he floated away.

He knew he came awake again a few times because he had memories of different faces floating before him. Some smiling, some looking uncomfortable. Donna was always smiling while Harvey looked as if he wanted to bolt, but didn't know how. Some, he questioned if they were real – what in the world was Louis Litt doing by his bedside, talking to him about ginseng teas and its benefits to virility? Then there was Jessica, who actually called him by his name – he was sure that she'd forgotten he had one – and who assured him that the firm would take care of him. She nearly gave him a heart attack when she patted his shoulder. Their relationship had progressed in a heartbeat from him just being a tiny microbe in her universe to one that she deigned to touch. He was climbing up the corporate ladder, all right.

But the one he found the most difficult to digest was Trevor. He was standing beside him now, looking down at him with tears in his eyes. Because Trevor never cried nor did he ever looked sorry. There was always "fake sorry" which he was used to. And this wasn't fake sorry.

"Hey, buddy."

What do you say to a man who, just a few months ago, wanted to ruin your life and almost did? Who drove Jenny away and nearly killed him in a rage? You don't say a word, because there are just no words.

He merely stared up at him with half-opened eyes which slowly widened as he realised what Trevor standing next to him meant. He took in the sharp oxygen pouring through the nasal canula in shallow breaths and willed the tremors that shook his body to go away. Because despite being suddenly really aware that he was completely vulnerable and at Trevor's mercy, he was still determined to show Trevor that he was the bigger man.

Trevor paled for some reason. He shuffled a few steps back and gave him a shaky smile.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm uh … not going to hurt you. Promise," he said.

If he had been stronger, he would have told Trevor to shut the hell up and that he wasn't afraid. But that would be an utter lie right now.

After what Trevor did to him a few months ago, he had excised him from his life, finally accepting that what Harvey and Grammy said about Trevor was true: He was an anchor – one that was determined to drag the boat down with it. And he needed to set sail.

He shifted uneasily in the bed as Trevor reached forward and squeezed his hand gently.

"I just want to say sorry. I … what I did ..." he looked away, blinking away his tears.

"I messed up, okay?" he said quietly.

Mike had the curious urge to assure him that all was well and this wasn't needed. Fortunately, he was saved from himself when sleep whisked him away again. Mike thought he managed to squeeze his hand in reply, but sleep took him so quickly that he wasn't sure.

He was sorry, however, that he didn't get to ask Trevor if he was going to come back. Because despite what Trevor did – there will always be a part of him who would remember the guy who was by his side when his parents died and his world came crashing down.

- S - S - S -

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harvey growled.

Trevor whirled around in surprise and flinched under his furious glare, but lifted his chin in defiance. "Visiting a sick friend. You've got a problem with that?"

"Sure. Because you're not his friend. Not by a long shot."

"Look, we have had a history that you possibly – "

"I don't care, and I don't want to hear it. Friends do not do what you did. Especially not after the lengths Mike went to save your pathetic ass."

"I was angry. Jenny – "

"Is in Bolivia, soaking in the sun after the mess you've made of her life. You took Jenny from Mike, nearly destroyed his career, and when _that _didn't work, you nearly made him into road kill by pushing him into ongoing traffic. What a pal," he said, his voice dripping with scorn.

"_That_ was an accident. And that snapped me out if, I swear. I was just so angry – "

"That you screwed up your own life? Look, I'm wasting my breath even talking to you. I would have slapped an injunction on you – hell, dragged you through criminal court – if it weren't for Mike here. Even after all that, he _still _saved your ass. _You _did this to yourself. And if you have not even realised that yet – you're not fit to be near Mike. Because you're still a danger to him. So. _Get out_."

Trevor laughed bitterly. "So ... what? Are you saying that you're a better friend to him? Don't make me laugh. You don't even know half the things we went through together."

Harvey snorted. "I know enough. Get out or I'll call security on you."

Trevor hesitated, then turned to Mike, and tenderly touched his forehead. With one last, longing look, he left, not bothering to even give Harvey a glance as he went out.

When he was gone, Harvey went hastily to Mike's side, lowering the blankets and studying his body for any signs of injury. He sighed in relief. None. Gently, he adjusted his blankets.

It has been two weeks since the surgery, and Mike was still frighteningly weak, unable to even sit up on his own. If he was awake, he mostly stared at them – the only assurance that he was anywhere in his skull was that he smiled at the right moments. The doctors had seriously wondered if he had lost the ability to speak until Mike asked two days ago, in a barely-there whisper, if everyone would stop staring at him like he was a zoo exhibit already.

That was when they knew he was going to turn the corner.

Rollins said that the powerful antibiotics coursing through Mike's system was doing their job, and the MRSA is on the retreat. And now that the abscess has been drained, the seizures and disorientation that had plagued him before would no longer be a problem. However, they did not know how much of a recovery he would make, or if he'd ever fully recover. Or be himself again.

That sent a shudder through him. Mike, his second chance at life shot to pieces by an invisible bug.

All they could do was wait, and wait they did. There was business to attend to at Pearson Hardman, and during Mike's long recuperation period, he had distracted himself with several cases which he had won with usual ease. But he found himself missing the unpredictability and crazy drama that Mike almost always brought to their cases.

The thought that that could probably be a thing of the past unnerved him – only because he actually cared that much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes: **Hello guys, so sorry for the delay. I really did mean to put this up at the end of February, then I got hit by an avalanche of Real Life. I'm moving house, you see, and the realtors were hurrying me to do stuff and the next thing I knew I was buried in boxes as I tried to box up a decades' worth of living into tiny boxes. I'm still not done with that, but I've finished The Close Call! Please leave a review if you can. Thank you, guys!

**Chapter Thirteen**

This time he knew where he was almost immediately. Having spent a good many years hanging around hospitals because of Grammy, he recognised the smells, sounds and sensations of the place. And if you have an eidetic memory, these memories are damn near impossible to erase.

He was fuzzy with the how and why, however.

He lifted his heavy eyelids and took an inventory of himself. Needles in both arms. Nasal cannula. And his personal non-favourite: Catheter. Beeps in the background meant the heart monitor. That meant whatever it was that had landed him here had been bad. Probably _really _bad.

Slowly, he rolled his eyes to his side and saw a man sitting slumped in the armchair beside his bed. The man was dressed in a rumpled suit, and he was using his coat as a makeshift blanket as he slept uncomfortably in the chair. That's why it took him a while to recognise that the man was Harvey Specter. Rumpled suit and Harvey Specter didn't go together. So did the word vigil. Because Harvey, who made it clear that he didn't care about anyone besides himself, didn't do vigils.

But here he was. Henry Specter was waiting for him to wake up.

Mike's lips stretched slowly into a weary grin. He wished that he had the strength to search for his phone or a camera, because the photo would've been blackmail material.

As if he sensed his gaze, Harvey blinked owlishly and met his eyes. And his expression brightened. That made Mike chuckle, and Harvey frowned, puzzled, but smiled wider.

"What's so funny, smart ass?"

"You, of course," he said. He sounded like a frog with laryngitis. He looked pointedly at Harvey's rumpled but very expensive shirt and then at his dishevelled hair.

Harvey cleared his throat and made a vain attempt in straightening his suit in mock indignation.

"I have you know that this is an Ermenegildo Zegna, and it's my casual shirt," he said.

Mike smiled again. But then, more seriously: "What are you doing here, really?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Showing that you care?"

Harvey, to his surprise, merely smiled.

"What ... no denial this time?"

Harvey shrugged. Then, said: "How do you feel?"

He considered the question for a while. "I think the word 'like shit' ... would be an understatement," he whispered. Sleep was tugging him down again, and he found it suddenly difficult to keep his eyes open.

"The doctor said that you're over the worse of it," Harvey said softly.

He rolled his eyes towards Harvey again. "Worse of … what?"

Harvey didn't answer immediately – he stared at Mike gravely and looked as if he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind. But he finally said, "MRSA."

"Wow." His eyes drifted close again.

Harvey lifted an eyebrow. "Wow?"

He forced his eyelids open again. "I have an illness ... that needs an abbreviation," he slurred.

Then he lost the battle with sleep. He was sure that he slipped into dreamland soon after, because he could have sworn that he heard Harvey quietly saying, "I'm sorry, kid. I should have believed you."

Because Harvey never apologised for anything.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

"I leave you for a few weeks, and you're in a hospital. How do you do that?"

"I don't know? Luck?" he answered lamely.

He tried not to think too much about the bandage around his head, or the fact that he was currently follicle-challenged – at least one patch of his skull was. But Rachel had that kind of effect on him. He always felt like the geeky kid trying to approach the hot cheerleader when it came to her.

Worse, after his dramatic collapse at Pearson Hardman weeks ago, his voice was still not what it should be. It was reedy, weak and shaky. He sounded like an old man. With a frog in his throat. Sitting in his wheelchair, Mike gave Rachel a thin smile as she fluffed his pillows and made his bed.

"They have people to do that, you know."

"I need something to do, okay?"

She gave him a crooked smile as she gingerly placed his pillow on the bed, as if one wrong move would undo her bed-making efforts.

It was funny what nearly dying could do for a shaky relationship. After that drama with Trevor a few months ago – after Rachel found out that he was a total fraud and conman – their relationship had not been the same. Although she had kept his secret, she didn't want to have anything to do with him. Though, eventually their relationship had thawed enough for them to work together without getting into a heated argument every second. But it was during Rollins' case that they were on joking terms again. They were making progress, being friends again. Then, overnight, Rachel went cold again. And when he confronted her about it, she answered by taking two weeks off to sun in the tropics without a word to him. And he only found that out through Donna.

She was just being Rachel. Mercurial, unpredictable … totally hot.

Rachel was one of the faces he thought he saw during the two weeks when he was touch and go – when they didn't know if the operation had saved his life only to maim him for the rest of his life. He remembered seeing her in tears, talking fervently to him about something. He knew that it was really important to understand what she was trying to say, but he couldn't no matter how hard he tried. He vaguely remember her whispering something in his ear and then placing her head next to his as she brushed a hand across his sweaty brow.

"You've got to come back," she had said.

That was the only thing he remembered her saying, and he promised himself that he will do just that so he could get the rest of what she said out of her one day.

After spending weeks flat on his back, they only just allowed him to sit in a wheelchair. He never thought that sitting up could mean so much. The first time he did it, it felt like he just learned how to fly. Now, after a week in the wheelchair he was impatient to start walking again – eventhough he could only stand for a few minutes before his legs gave out.

Rachel placed his bag on his lap. It contained his meagre possessions, which included a surprising number of get-well cards and teddy bears from his Pearson Hardman colleagues. Then, she pushed him down the corridor, chatting to him about what has been happening in the office.

"Remember that woman who kneed Louis in the lobby months ago?"

"How could I forget? We watched it on my terminal," he smiled at the memory.

"Yeah, she returned yesterday with a troop of lawyers. She's suing him for harassment and said that his injunction on her was a 'creative and desperate way to get her attention'," she said.

He chuckled. "I'm missing all the good stuff."

"And Harvey has been driving everyone up the wall, especially Greg who had the dubious honour of being your replacement. Not permanent, mind you," she quickly said. "Harvey made that clear enough from the start."

He felt a little warm glow in his chest from that. "What, he misses me?"

"Like a lost limb."

"Touching. And maybe a tad creepy," he said.

Despite not being able to walk on his own or do pretty damn much anything by himself, the doctors all said that he was making an incredibly speedy recovery. Remarkable, especially since he had two conditions that were tough to beat: MRSA and a brain abscess.

"Someone up there likes you a lot, Mike Ross. One day you need to share his number with me," Rollins said during a visit a few hours ago.

The man looked like a different person. Hobo doc was gone. In his place was a version that stepped out of General Hospital. The nurses were practically drooling around him. Again, funny what nearly dying could do to other people.

The only sucky part of his existence right now – besides having the strength of a newborn kitten and the coordination of a drunken gerbil – was the nausea and dizziness that still attacked him at inappropriate moments. He wondered if he'd ever be over that. Rollins was honest about that, saying that there were cases where the patient suffered that for months. Or never recovered at all. Though Rollins was nice enough to tell him that he doesn't seem to be going down that route.

Still, Mike shuddered at the thought of always having a puke bag at his side and never being able to walk in a straight line again.

"Hey, you cold?" Rachel said. Before he could answer, she placed a throw around his shoulders.

"You missed your true calling," he said wryly as he snuggled into the shawl's welcomed warmth.

When the doors to the hospital opened and he was out in the open air with the sounds of Manhattan's traffic in a distance, he smiled. Then he saw the thick layers of snow around them and realised with startling clarity that the last time he was outdoors, winter was only starting to show itself.

"Shit. I've been out for that long?"

Rachel just patted him on the shoulder.

They waited at the curb for the taxi. Only the taxi ended up being a sleek, black limo. He threw Rachel a startled look, but she only smiled back.

He beamed when he saw who came out of the limo.

"Hey, Mike. You look like you could take on a herd of WWE wrestlers!" Ray gave him a big grin and gave him a high five, which he awkwardly returned.

"What are you doing here?"

"What? Isn't it obvious? I'm here to take your sorry ass back home."

"Harvey shouldn't have."

"Kid, even if Harvey didn't ask me to – I'd be here in a heartbeat."

Together with Rachel, Ray helped him to his feet and then into the car. That few minutes of activity took more out of him than he'd like to admit. He tried his best to ignore Rachel's concerned looks as he huddled in his corner enduring the flip flopping of his stomach.

"You okay?"

He nodded, not daring to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold, glass window and gazed at the snow-covered lawns.

And then he awoke with a start. He blinked sleepily as Rachel helped him sit up.

"We're here?" he asked blearily.

"We're here."

Ray opened the door for him and Mike was startled to see the shiny entrance of an expensive Manhattan apartment instead of his walk-up apartment in Brooklyn. For a moment he stared at the majestic sight, then he frowned at Rachel in confusion.

"I know I had brain surgery and everything but … I'm pretty sure this isn't my apartment."

"It isn't," Ray said. "It's Harvey's."

"Again. I'm pretty sure this isn't Harvey's place either."

Rachel smiled crookedly at him. "Who says that he only has _one_ place?"

"Oh." Like, duh.

Despite her protests, Mike insisted on standing up. So, resigned, she helped him to his feet and as he took in the lavish surroundings, she wrapped a woollen scarf around his neck.

Traitorously, wave of dizziness assailed him, and he had to grab the door to support himself. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to breathe shallowly to ride out the nausea.

"Okay, your time for heroics is officially over," Rachel muttered as she sat him back down.

"Hey, get him in this," he heard Ray say.

Misreably, he leaned heavily against the door frame, trying to settle his stomach. When his head decided to stop spinning, he finally opened his eyes. Rachel was now looking down at him, her eyes wide with worry. Ray had already come over to his side with a wheelchair.

"Must I? Really?" he said, staring at the thing.

Rachel stared at him in disbelief. Ray just snorted in amusement.

"Do it, or I'll sit you in it myself. And it's really pretty easy for me to do that right now," said Rachel sternly.

Sighing, he allowed them to help him into the chair. It took the two of them to manoeuvre him from the car into the wheelchair, and as he sank into it, he tried to hide how relieved he felt. They wheeled him past the doorman who greeted them cheerfully – clearly, he was expecting them – and then into the lobby.

"Really," he said again. "What am I doing here?"

"Harvey wants you here, isn't it obvious?" Rachel said, smirking.

"Why?"

"You know, for a genius, you're really slow on the uptake," said someone.

Startled, he turned to his left and saw Harvey, dressed in a white shirt and a pair of jeans (didn't even think he had those), waiting for them beside the concierge.

"Come on. I'll take that," he said.

With that, Harvey took the bag from his lap and led them through another set of doors. What lay behind the doors made him stare around him in amazement.

The lobby looked like something out of a design magazine – for the Donald Trumps of the world. It had an indoor waterfall. _Waterfall_. One of those walls that wept water which disappeared quietly into the floor in near-invisible, carefully-designated holes.

He couldn't help it – he stared at everything in open-mouthed wonder. After a month's stay in a hospital, this place was Shangri-la.

After a brief ride in he mirrored elevator to the 30th floor, they arrived at Harvey's place - a penthouse, of course. He had seen some nice places, but this one …. It had a breathtaking, panoramic view of New York City. The lights of the Empire State building blinked at him from a distance. The hall, bedecked with furniture he probably shouldn't even lean on lest he accidentally stained fabric that cost his year's salary, could sit a sizeable party. And in a corner, was a bar which had its own balcony.

"This is crazy," he said as Racheal rolled him into the place. " This is even nicer than your other place. What is this, your part-time palace?"

Harvey merely shrugged.

"I would hesitate to call this his love nest, but let's just say that he had some spare cash and didn't know what to do with it."

It was Donna. She smiled widely at him as she walked towards him from the back of the penthouse, and then, to his surprise, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"How are you doing?"

He could feel his face going hot. "Good. Like, fantastic."

"I appreciate the exaggeration," she said wryly.

They all stared at each other awkwardly for a moment then he said, "Really. What am I doing here?"

Harvey sighed. "You really want me to spell it out for you? You're staying here."

His mouth fell open. "Wait – "

"Have you seen your apartment building? It's a safety hazard!" he said.

"Hey. Calling it that is a little – "

Donna lifted a hand and bent one finger after another as she ran down her list of reasons. "Let me see: The lift has not worked since 1996, the wooden stairs should have been replaced a decade ago and the fire escape is more of a fire trap and your door not only gets stuck but your wheelchair could barely roll through it. Should I go on?"

He shrugged. "I can manage."

"And my answer is no," Harvey said. "Because what I need is for you to get back on your feet as soon as possible, not for you to fall down the stairs and break your neck. Got it?"

He blinked. "But – "

"Let me put it to you this way," Donna said, crossing her legs as she sat in a sleek, leather sofa. "This is a $10 million penthouse. This is a rare opportunity to milk Harvey for what he's worth."

Harvey shot her an incredulous look. She merely threw him a sly smile.

"Good point," Mike said, grinning.

"Glad we got that settled," Harvey said dryly. He then gestured to Ray who proceeded to push him around the apartment. Harvey explained what was what, and where his room would be, but Mike couldn't tear his eyes away from the vision of the Manhattan skyline through the apartment's wide, seemingly never-ending windows.

He was definitely going to milk this for what it's worth.

After a mere 20 minutes of this, he felt tired again. Rachel took note of how he was blinking lazily and slumping in his chair and told him that it was time for him to head to his bedroom.

"And I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning, okay?" Rachel said.

Before he could protest, she kissed him long and deep. And when they parted – just in time for him to draw in some air – she smiled and slowly rubbed her lipstick off his lips with a finger. She tossed her hair and sashayed past a stunned Ray.

"Sorry, kid," said Donna. "My goodbye is going to be less interesting." Smiling, she patted him on the shoulder. Ray followed soon after, muttering, "Lucky kid."

And then there was just him and Harvey.

"So," he said, shifting uneasily in the wheelchair.

"So," Harvey returned, rocking on his heels.

"Harvey ..." he cleared his throat. "Thanks. Not just for this but … I heard what you did for Grammy. I promise I'll pay you back – "

"Mike?"

He paused.

"It's time to get your things in your bedroom and then sleep."

"What, you're my nurse now?"

"No, merely obeying Rollins' instructions."

And embarrassingly, Harvey began rolling him to his bedroom. When he was finally there – it was a swanky room, filled with leather-covered furniture and bedsheets with thread count so high that he'd probably be spoiled for life – Harvey left him next to the bed as he proceeded to take his clothes from his small bag to place it in the closet.

"Harvey?"

Harvey merely turned to him and gave him a wry smile.

"What I'm saying is … this all seems a tad excessive for a fired associate."

At that, Harvey frowned.

"You're not fired, Mike."

He laughed wryly, but he couldn't hide how relieved he felt. He had wondered quietly to himself for days about the status of his job. All clues seem to point that his job was safe, but he had fucked up too much – apparently he had defaced Jessica's office – to logically survive. And then there's also the case of him probably going to be out of commission for a few more weeks.

"Are you telling me that a microscopic bug saved my job?"

Harvey sighed, sat at the edge of the bed and grabbed his wheelchair and turned it around so that he faced him. The movement made him gulp in surprise, but he fixed his gaze determinedly on Harvey's dark eyes.

"What I'm saying is that I made a mistake." He clenched his jaw. "And I'm sorry."

So. He wasn't imagining that apology that he heard … Harvey was sorry and … he wasn't actually sure how to deal with that.

"I wouldn't lie to you. Not about pot anyway," he finally said. He lowered his gaze to his hands.

"I know," Harvey said and sighed heavily. "I realised that almost too late."

He dared to sneak a look at Harvey. And for the first time he realised that the man looked tired, exhausted even. To think that he could possibly be the cause of that stunned him. But then, he quickly reasoned, perhaps there was another Leah Johnson to dog his steps these days. Yeah, that was probably it.

"Uhm ... you really don't have to feel sorry because – "

"Mike?"

He stared at Harvey mutely.

"I'm going to say this only once. And you'll probably never hear this again. Got it?"

Mike nodded to show that he understood.

Harvey took a deep breath.

"You've always had my back. And you can be damn sure that I have yours. Understood?"

He nodded again. If he had said anything, it would've probably been something totally embarrassing.

Harvey nodded, seemingly satisfied. "You're going to have all the leave that you need. Jessica has already made sure of it. You're not going to be replaced – they'd have to answer to me." He paused, giving him a small smile. "So trust me on this. Everything's going to be fine, kid."

Again, he could only nod.

Thankfully, Harvey only helped him out of the wheelchair, but left him alone to get ready for bed. As he stared at the Manhattan skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, he wondered how life can be so strange sometimes – how he'd evaded capture by the cops, only to stumble on a whole new life with Harvey Specter.

Only, he was pretty sure back then that Harvey Specter only cared for No.1, and that he, Mike Ross, was the strange amusement of a bored, overpaid, legal fat cat.

He smiled.

Apparently, he was wrong on all counts.

He wasn't sure what to think of that.

But oddly, there was one thing that Harvey said that he truly believed.

Harvey got his back.

"Thanks," he said softly.

**THE END!**

**Note: **Thank you for reading this far, my dear readers! It has been an enjoyable ride. So sorry for the delay. Moving can really do you in!


End file.
